~TIEN LYN~
Tien Lyn knocked on the doors of the Chamber of the Waning and Waxing Moon, "Uncle?"
When nobody answered, Tien Lyn stepped inside the room cluttered with the precious objects. She could not tell just how long she stood gawking at the countless incense burners shaped as demons, dragons, faeries, and monsters. The only reason her enchanted stupor did not last longer was that her eyes accidentally stopped on the nook fully provisioned for tea making. It even had a mechanism that poured water from the dragon-maw shaped spout by pulling the dragon's leg.
It was always better when your elders found you busy, and she was properly occupied when the Mage came in from his personal apartments. He carried a wooden board covered with symbols, an inkpot, a scroll-case, and a pouch embroidered with gold thread and pearls.
"Come here for a moment, child."
When she obeyed, he handed her his pouch. Even through its heavy fabric, she could feel the jagged edges of the horoscope bones. She massaged the bones inside the pouch with her fingers, making them roll and rub against one another, a soothing thing.
The mage did not stop her. He arranged his load around a grass mat and settled in like a cat looking for the most comfortable position imaginable. When he finally was satisfied with how the board was balanced on his lap and the direction he was facing, he motioned for Tien Lyn to spill the bones.
They rolled out in a haphazard hail of delicately-tinted ivory. Each bone had multiple facets, and each facet had a symbol in the Ancient Script carved into it, not altogether different from the Modern Script, but not close enough for Tien Lyn to be sure of the exact meaning of each symbol.
The mage lifted the bones and carefully positioned them on the wooden board, matching the symbols on the bones with the symbols on the board and scribbling notes. He was completely absorbed in his scrying, so Tien Lyn knelt by his side to offer him his tea.
The mage accepted the cup with a distracted 'Thank you, child' never taking his eyes away from the bones.
Tien Lyn sat on her heels for a bit, but he did not seem to need her any longer, so she quietly crawled away to look at the incense burners. She tiptoed from one fantastical shape to another. Mauve fumes curved-up towards the ceiling in patterns so distracting that she bumped into a gigantic table. The monstrosity took up a quarter of the Pagoda's floor and barely left room to squeeze by along the walls. Its top was painted with the map of the Evershining Empire and the borderlands.
She leaned over it, pushing the hair out of her eyes. The symbols were in the modern script, so it was not the effort that made her hands sweat. Quantong marked a narrow valley snaking its way through the mountains in the Northwest. Her heart thumped at the thought of Han Zheng, how he could not acquire his map, and this hermit wizard had it, with all the minute details.
The map shifted towards her, nay, jumped at her, changing from flat to lifelike, as if Tien Lyn was a bird speeding down the valley. The gray and brown mountain slopes fell away on either side of her, stretching up to the snow-capped points well above her head. The caverns and the strongholds carved into the wild rock appeared in her peripheral vision, making her dizzy. A truly barbaric place to send a man to die.
Tien Lyn closed her eyes, steadying her breath, trying to decide if she wanted him to die, or if she could not bear for anyone else she knew to die. The two emotions clashed like cymbals leaving her shaking from head to toe and sinking her nails into her temples.
When she dared to peek through her eyelashes again, the map was flat once more, but populated by wax figurines. Each miniature figure was so amazing in its detail, that she could recognize four among those crowding Xichon on the map: the Celebrated Emperor Wo Jia, her mother, Han Zheng and... someone very familiar, looking a bit like her mother, only with her eyes opened wide in nearly comic terror.
She picked the figurine and peered into its pale face. Yes, it was the face she saw in the mirror every morning. She gingerly replaced her effigy on the map, wondering why it was hard to recognize her own likeness when others did not give her any troubles. The tiny wax Han Zheng smirked exactly the way she remembered.
Tien Lyn extended her hand to grab his figurine for closer inspection, but the wax Zheng went up in smoke like an incense stick and melted down before her very eyes.
"Oh, no, no, no..." Tien Lyn mumbled, "I did not do anything, I was only... "
"Don't worry, child," the old Mage said coming up. "You did not break it."
He picked up the blob of wax that used to be Han Zheng and tossed it into a small bucket set over a burner. The flames sprang up, and the mage mixed the contents with a silver ladle.
"Now, let us see." He pulled a ladleful of liquid wax, and let it drip on the corner of the table, in the middle of a strange pattern. The drops built up into a mound that approximated a human.
"Hmm," said the Mage and stroked his long braided beard. "Hmm..."
"Is it Han Zheng?" Tien Lyn had to restrain herself from pulling on the old man's sleeve to attract his attention.
"Zheng? Zheng... who?" The mage stared through her for a bit, while the figurine started to march from its corner towards the center of the map. "This... Zheng is done, and his story is done. Someone else's story is beginning, but it will take time to see who it is and if their fate is linked to the Empire's fate."
Her eyes filled up with fresh tears. It stung that she had any left, and for the root of all her misfortunes. She hated him, and she was weeping for him. Fisting her eyes to get rid of the damned tears, Tien Lyn felt something new swell in her chest, a cold seed of anger.
The mage smiled at her, not unkindly. "It is the way of the world, child. It changes."
Despite her efforts, a few salty drops made it down her cheeks.
The mage shook his head ruefully, thumbing away a tear for her, "Alas, alas, if it hadn't been for my big mouth and my undue fondness for Dew-on-a-petal..."
"Wh-what do you mean?" Tien Lyn managed through trembling lips.
"Your horoscope, child. Today it came back exactly the way it did when Dew-on-a-petal presented you to me as a baby. You shall bring about the beginning of a new dynasty. I should not have told your mother."
"Then I am not going to be a mage, Uncle?" The question was out of her mouth before she thought better of asking. She had not realized until this very moment just how sure she had felt about it, and how bitterly disappointed she was to be mistaken. But she squared her shoulders and willed her lips to stop trembling. Powerful men did not like those who wept easily. Nobody did, for that matter.
Her Uncle looked puzzled, "A mage? Why?"
She felt her cheeks color with embarrassment. "I thought that because you are a mage, I might be one as well. So I could avenge my family." Spoken out loud, or, rather, mumbled, the idea sounded like a delusion.
Apparently, the mage, the real mage, was of the same opinion, though he did his best to hide his incredulity, "Oh, no, child, you have no gift. Magic is not a family business."
Every word made Tien Lyn feel even more rotten.
"Magic does not run in the bloodlines. Not like potters or swineherds who beget more potters and swineherds. Though I should think there are plenty of swineherds out there who would have been far better at something else. Politically, it is a convenient construct, but---- But never mind that."
"I understand," Tien Lyn finally dared to interrupt the Mage. "Please, you do not need to explain further, Uncle."
The mage smiled brightly, "Your fate is different."
"To bring about a new dynasty?" Tien Lyn asked dejectedly. "But how? My father is dead. Without my family, I am a nobody."
"As I said, I should have kept it a secret from your mother, yes, I should have. But she was such a bright girl, so spirited, ever my favorite. So, I told her. And she understood it the only way she knew how. She raised you as a perfect porcelain doll, fit to be an Imperial concubine, and little else." He patted her head awkwardly. "For that, I beg your forgiveness."
Tien Lyn did not understand the reproach in his voice. "Was not my mother right, Uncle? Is it not the only way a woman can help to start a new dynasty? By giving birth to a new Emperor?"
The mage cringed. "I'm going to tell you what I've told your mother back then. She did not take it to heart. You might."
He made a dramatic pause, then announced with an air of extreme gravity: "Maybe."
"Maybe?" she echoed, underwhelmed.
"It is the most powerful word when it comes to fate, child. Remember that. Say it whenever you are tempted to think 'yes' or 'no', 'good luck' or 'rotten luck', 'prince' or 'pauper'. Then think it. Mmgh?"
"I will think about that," Tien Lyn promised. "But if I am not a Mage, I cannot stay here long... can I? Where will we go?"
The Mage chuckled and echoed her: "I will think about that. Now run along, child. I do need to think, and Finch needs help before he decides to try one of his more juvenile spells to shrink his chores. And I refuse to face another self-aware dumpling accusing me of boiling it alive."
Tien Lyn had no way of knowing if her Uncle was joking or not, but she thought that food holding forth any kind of a conversation might break her already tenuous grip on reality.